Saturday, 19 March 2016

Mindfulness, Observing, and discovering a fad before it became popular.

Just recently I have been hearing talk about something
referred to as ‘mindfulness’. It seems to be in vogue. My wife mentioned it a week
or two ago and a trainer on a work course that I am attending also brought it
to everyone’s attention. I found this both rewarding and a little baffling. The
reward comes from realising a notion that I have is being widely and, to me at
least, suddenly accepted. I find it baffling because I thought that it was
self-evident.

A few years ago, on another course, another trainer set up a
big introduction for what they termed ‘a revolutionary new idea’. They talked
about who there are always opposites, good-bad, high-low, hot-cold, peace-war;
that sort of thing. The point of this revolutionary exercise was to make us
realise that a characteristic in one person can be interpreted in two different
ways. I did not like this person’s bombastic style and, perhaps a little
irritated, I challenged the notion that what they were presenting was either
new or revolutionary. It was just Aristotle’s dichotomies dressed up. This did
not go down well with the trainer and we had something of a public falling out,
but that is another story. The point is; I began to feel uneasy that this
situation might be repeating itself.

Fortunately the trainer introducing the concept of
‘mindfulness’ lacked a bombastic style and made no unsubstantiated claims for
it being either new or revolutionary. This put me at ease somewhat because for
as long as I can remember I have been living a ‘mindful’ life.

My own particular brand of mindfulness does not come from
studying Philosophy, in fact it predates that. I believe that it comes from my
situation of being disabled. When I started school I wore short trousers, which
was the norm back then and not some weird predilection of my own. Actually, I
was desperate for the day when I would graduate to the year where boys were
allowed to wear long trousers. This was because I wore a calliper, or leg iron,
or ‘ironmongery’ as my doctor referred to it, on my left leg. Such an
orthopaedic device was blatantly obvious when worn with short trousers.

My disability presented itself at a very young age and despite
my best intentions it stopped me from doing ‘normal’ school activities. Over
the years my mobility became more and more impaired and I, as a result, became
more of a spectator than a participant.

I do not remember ever feeling resentful about this happening
to me. I was born disabled and my state of being was all I had ever known. If I
had had a period of normality that had been snatched away by some progressive
disease or serious accident then maybe I might have grown to hate my situation,
I really do not know. As I lost my mobility through slow degrees I became more
and more an observer of life.

Discussions with my wife, often held over a bottle of wine,
have revealed that I am a very observant person. I see things that others never
seem to. Sunrises and sunsets are obvious examples, but I expect lots of people
see them. I see other things, some of which are beautiful, like wild animals,
some of which are not, like a crime being committed or someone feeling lonely.
As my life progressed I became acutely aware of the existence of the moment,
this one right here, right now, and understood that in reality it is all we
have.

The past is an imperfect memory, the future an aspiration at
best. The only thing that actually exists is the moment.

I became aware of this truth at a relatively young age and,
I think, it helped me cope with situations that

others often express disbelief
at, my numerous bouts of major surgery or my chronic pain for example. I use
those because people often tell me that they are some of the things that they
fear the most; suffering pain or going under the knife for a prolonged period
of time. Been there, died on the table, got resuscitated, done that.

It seems to me that the reason why I loved events like
Christmas so much is because I was living so much in the moment, attune to the
festival season, valuing being with my family during a period of holiday, even
when young.

Of course true mindfulness is not just about raucous events
like Christmas; indeed, I think that it is more about the little events, things
like just sitting still and being silent. Watching, listening, and developing
an awareness for what is around you. Hearing your heart beat. Following a cloud
as it drifts across the sky. Living in the moment that is all that we have.

I have done that for a long time as well.

To be honest being mindful has helped me deal with the
trials and tribulations of being disabled as well. They do not, however, go
hand in hand together. Mindfulness is not some esoteric wisdom given to the
disabled as some form of compensation. Perhaps you need a certain kind of mind
to form this kind of perception independently of any teacher? I may well have
developed my own brand of mindfulness even if I had not been born with some
physical disabilities? They are interesting but largely pointless questions.

For me mindfulness is seeing what is important in life and
letting go of all the rest. That other people seem to have discovered, or maybe
that should be ‘rediscovered’ because like Aristotle’s dichotomies this idea
has been around for a long time, is a good thing. Anything that helps people
deal with the pressures of life, to attain a healthier outlook, has to be a
good thing. Be mindful, be happy.